Harry Potter and the Tomb of Days
by Slytherin Dragon
Summary: My first HP fanfic.! Alternate history and what to do about it.
1. Chapter 1

Harry Potter and the Tomb of Days 

Prologue: Voices 

"I killed him... oh my God, I killed him, I didn't mean to...." 

"It was an accident, you know that. The stupid fool provoked you-" 

"There is no 'accident' about taking a life, Rowena! I just killed a man!" 

"And if you hadn't, he would have killed you, and I don't think he'd have gone to pieces over doing it!"

"......."

"Don't you see? You were better than him, a better wizard, a better man! If anyone had it coming, he did, with his wretched-"

"Rowena... just... be quiet."

"Godric-"

"Quiet!"

"It'll all come right eventually, my dears. Have patience...."

"How can it? Not even the most powerful magic can bring someone back from the dead-"

"It doesn't need to, dear. Just be patient and let things mend themselves. Everything will be as it should."

"You and your patience! ...Helga, what have you got up your sleeve?"

"Why, nothing, dear. Nothing up my sleeve, but a few things down the road a ways... patience is always rewarded, Rowena dear."

"Oh, HAH!"

"... ... Salazar, why didn't you run? Why pick this time not to do the intelligent, logical thing and just leave? Now there'll be no more schemes and dreams for you, and where's the point of that? I don't understand... Salazar? Are you... punishing me?" 

Chapter One: Falling Down the Well 

*...punishing me?* Harry Potter jerked awake, reflexively looking around, still hearing confused echoes of the voice. He glanced around at the Hogwarts library. How had he managed to fall asleep in there? Especially without Madam Pince, the librarian, waking him up and sending him on his way?

He wished Ron and Hermione were there, so he could tell them about the bizarre dream he'd just had. It had seemed so real, so true, and yet... there was something wrong with it. But Ron and Hermione had gone home for the Christmas holidays; the only person left at Hogwarts that Harry knew was his archenemy Draco Malfoy, who had stayed for some unexplained reason. "And catch me telling *him* anything,' he said defiantly.

"Talking to yourself, Potter?" a cold, drawling voice asked from behind him. Harry spun around and out of his chair to face Draco Malfoy walking in from the doorway, where he'd been lounging for who knew how long. "First step to insanity, you know." He smiled unpleasantly. "And I'm sure napping in school libraries is on the list somewhere, too."

"Shut up, Malfoy!" Harry snapped. "What do you want?"

Malfoy put on an exaggeratedly innocent face. "We never talk...."

"Spit it out!"

The pale boy inclined his head arrogantly. "Now that everyone's gone... I was thinking we could finally get that duel I challenged you to out of the way."

"You were just trying to get me in trouble!" Harry began to sit back down. "It doesn't count as a real challenge!"

"Scared, Potter?" Malfoy sniggered. "I thought so."

"I'm not!"

"Prove it!" Malfoy crossed his arms with a cold little smile. "I'm challenging you now, Potter. In front of the blank portrait in the northernmost corridor. Be there, one hour." He turned and swaggered out. "Unless, of course, you're scared to face me without all your little friends."

After he'd gone, Harry slammed one fist into the heavy table. Was that why Malfoy had stayed behind? Just to fight? He could practically hear Hermione telling him Malfoy was only trying to get him into trouble and to just ignore him.

Of course, he didn't pay any attention, and like picking at a scab, he was wandering through the northern corridors looking for Malfoy's blank portrait. It was a dusty, deserted area. Abandoned, like no one remembered it was there. Furniture rested along the hallways, covered in dust, and the portraits were similarly coated, and hung with thick ropes of cobwebs. The people inside the portraits stared at Harry as though he were some strange beast they'd never seen before. None of them would give him a hint as to where the empty, in fact they all hid behind their frames or changed the subject when he asked them where to find it. "Like they're afraid...." he whispered to himself.

"Or like they don't know what you're talking about," Malfoy said from a wall. "None of them admit this one's even here."

Harry spun, ready to spit an angry response, but was struck by the enormous, empty portrait hanging on the wall above where Malfoy was standing; it was truly huge, suitable for a small group of people, painted life size, but there was nothing there but blank canvas. Malfoy, smiling mockingly, held his wand casually in one hand, and his black school robes, which he hadn't changed out of, brushed against the dusty wall. "You're late," the pale boy observed coolly.

"Got lost. You didn't give very good directions." Harry brought out his wand and dropped into a ready position. "Let's get this over with."

"Love to." Malfoy's voice was litle more than a whisper, and a cold light of anticipation made his pale eyes gleam. He slid off the wall into a smooth ready position. "I've been waiting for this, Potter...."

Harry nodded, watching the Slytherin boy carefully for signs of cheating. He wouldn't put it past Malfoy, that was for sure. While he wasn't about to admit it out loud, he'd been waiting for this, too. A straight-up fight between them, something both of them could look back on and remember, no matter who won. Harry nodded, the closest he'd come to bowing to Malfoy. "Three," he said softly.

Malfoy smiled, inclined his head sharply. "Two."

"One..."

Almost as one, both boys swung up their wands and cried, "*Expelliarmus!*" Both were thrown down opposite ends of the hallway, their wands flying out of their hands. The floor began to shake, and several portraits screamed as they were thrown off the wall into billowing clouds of dust.

Malfoy twisted to his feet and lunged for his wand. Harry noticed this and made a mad dive for his own wand. After about thirty seconds of hectic scrambling, they were facing each other again, trying to keep their balance on the heaving floor and surrounded by a veritable dust storm. "What did you do?" Malfoy hissed angrily.

"What do you mean, what did I do? What did you do? You chose this place!"

"I didn't do anything except try to disarm you, idiot!" Malfoy snapped.

"Same here!" Harry snarled back. "And-" Suddenly, the floor gave an even more violent heave and both boys were once again pitched to the floor. A sort of hollow groaning filled the corridor. "And that doesn't sound good," he finished.

"No, it doesn't," Malfoy said, startled for once into agreeing. "I suggest running."

At that moment, the floor opened up, and both boys began to fall. Just before he hit bottom and the world went black, Harry thought, "I don't think running's a possibility...." 

Chapter 2: Four Houses 

*...a possibility....* Godric Gryffindor shook his head, trying to clear it of a sudden wooziness, as though he'd hit his head on something. But that wasn't possible, he was standing on top of a hill, completely injury-free. A very special hill.

Helga Hufflepuff, a plump, motherly witch with her gray hair in a windswept bun on her head and dressed in bright yellow robes, gave him a quizzical look. "Godric, you look preoccupied. Is something wrong?"

"No..." He grinned boyishly, belying his nearly forty years of age. "But this place... this place! It has real possibility! Can't you just see a school here, far away from the Muggles?" His green eyes glowed excitedly at the prospect.

A thin, pale wizard stood nearby, stroking a snake. "I suppose if you truly enjoy roughing it, Godric. I still feel that somewhere a little more populated-"

"We've all heard your argument to establish the school in London, Salazar," a black-haired witch interrupted him. "And we're all sick of it. You yourself admitted the logic in being away from the general population, Muggle and otherwise-"

Salazar Slytherin gave the black-haired witch a cold stare. "Indeed, Rowena. And I also pointed out that the advantages of solitude have just as compelling disadvantages." His snake twined itself around one of his arms. "But I suppose this place is not too bad."

Godric laughed. "Listen to you two! Shelve that argument, would you? This place is perfect...."

Salazar gave the other the benefit of his cool stare. "Perfect it isn't," he said. "It's adequate, at best."

"Which from you is hysterical approval." Godric laughed again. "So, my friends... we decided a school is what we want." He spun in a circle, flinging his arms out to encompass everything. "And a school we shall have, where we will train young minds in the ways of magic and the meaning of courage-"

"Courage!" Salazar scoffed. "What's courage without intelligence? Suicide! It would be better to teach cunning, how to plan ahead, how to think-"

"Bah!" Godric responded cheerfully. "You speak with snakes so much you think like one, Slytherin."

The black-haired witch, Rowena, laughed. "You're both wrong. I agree with the need to be able to think, but scheming only leads to problems later when they fall apart. True wisdom and knowledge are far more inportant than either bravery or brains."

Helga giggled. "Aren't we being a little premature? The school isn't even built yet..."

"That's so you, Helga! Always patient, always steady! Whatever would we do without you?" Godric looked around, suddenly serious. "But still... it is a serious problem. How are we going to teach our students? We're all different, with different outlooks... and forcing anyone to comply to one standard would make us no better than Muggle Inquisitors...."

Rowena and Salazar nodded grimly, but said nothing. Neither of them know what to do, Godric realized. Suddenly, Helga trilled a laugh. "Oh, you all amaze me sometimes!"

Salazar frowned. "How so, Helga?"

"Why, there are four of us here, aren't there? And each of us prizes different qualities in a student. Godric, you favor courage, a good heart, and fighting spirit. Rowena, you like your students to be deep thinkers, wise and intelligent. Salazar, you love cunning and foresight, drive and ambition. And me... why, I will take patience and loyalty over all those things."

Rowena sighed. "Hammer our differences through our heads, Helga, why don't you? What's your point?"

"My point, dear, is that we can all teach our students our own way. Basic magic and such don't care how the professor acts, but if we could group like minds together, why-"

Godric grinned suddenly. "I get it! We each choose our own students to learn our way, and they all live together at this school and learn to deal with other views...."

Salazar shook his head. "That won't work."

"Why not?"

"Think about it, Gryffindor. We'll be training children! How will they know who they truly are at such an age? And if they don't truly know, how will we?"

Rowena nodded slowly. "He has a point, Godric. But I think they do know, somewhere... we just need something that can give them to the best one of us to help them learn and not be wrong...."

"I have it!" Godric brought out a beat-up wizard's hat, which garnered strange looks from his three friends. "A Consciousness Charm and a few information spells, and we have ourselves a Sorting Hat!"

Rowena gave the hat a probing look. "But it's so... old."

Helga nodded agreement. "It's definitely seen better days, dear. Maybe a new hat? Only I do like the idea of a Sorting Hat, you know-"

"That hat is fine with me," Salazar interrupted. "At least we'll know no one will try to steal it...."

"See?" Godric crowed. "He's on my side this time! But seriously... all this can be argued about later. I think we have a good working plan, and details can be worked out after the school's built." He looked around, expecting to hear an immediate protest from Salazar. An obssessive planner, Salazar Slytherin always wanted everything put in line and organized before taking action, and Godric's tendency towards letting the cards fall where they may irritated him no end.

But the thin wizard with the snake was nowhere to be seen. "Where'd that weasel get off to?" Rowena asked irritably. "I swear, if he wasn't your friend, Godric, I'd not put up with him-"

"He's all our friend," Godric interrupted firmly. "He'd not do anything to harm any of us. I'm sure he's just checking out the village nearby or something." He conjured a scroll of parchment, a quill, and an inkpot. "So... we're going to need a big place, with at least four towers..."

Rowena dropped the subject of Salazar Slytherin in favor of planning and said, "Five, one for Astronomy, too..."

"True. All right, at least five... let's stick some more on there if we've the inclination later. And of course, Salazar will pitch a fit unless Potions is taught in the basement...." 

To be continued in Chapter 3: Written in Stone 


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 3: Written in Stone 

*...in the basement...* Harry swam back to consciousness with a groan. His head felt as though it was being used as a drum by a troll with a very large club, and his left arm ached abominably. He opened one eye and was surprised to find himself in an underground chamber. One that was fairly well-lit, in spite of being belowground.

It was a large, cavernous room, like an amphitheatre or audience chamber. It was round, and the walls were smooth stone, covered in dust. Probably a natural cave covered over by the school, maybe even an abandoned first version of the Great Hall. The floor, which Harry was laying on, seemed to be tiled in marble, cracked and broken with age. Some light, certainly, filtered down from the dusty hole he and Malfoy had fallen through, but not enough to account for how bright the room was... Malfoy!

Harry sat bolt upright, ignoring the pain in his head and arm, and reached for his wand. A wave of searing pain coursed through his arm, and he became aware that it was bound tightly with what looked like strips of black cloth and put in a sling of the same material. He gasped in pain and cradled it back to his body.

"So you've decided to wake up and share the panic, Potter," Malfoy drawled from elsewhere in the large room. "Now you can get up and help me find a way out of this place."

Harry looked around desperately, trying to locate the other boy. Malfoy was crouched by one of the walls, with his wand lit and in one hand. By its light, Harry saw that the stone wall behind him was covered with scratch marks, which he seemed to be studying carefully.

Harry blinked. Malfoy wasn't wearing his robes anymore, just simple black jeans and a white T-shirt, with a strip of black cloth around his head, binding his temples like a headband. Harry glanced down at his bound arm and gulped. Malfoy had shredded his school robe to use as bandages. "You... my arm..."

"Is broken," Malfoy said, turning around to face the wall and examine the scratches. "You landed on it." His voice developed an uncustomary sharp snap instead of the lazy drawl Harry was used to. "If you want to get out of here, I suggest you get up and help me, Potter. I'm not in the mood to coddle your *sensitive* nature."

Harry had been about to thank the other boy for taking care of his arm, but decided against it since Malfoy was being so spiteful, and instead got unsteadily to his feet and looked around. "Where are we?"

"If I knew that, I wouldn't have to look for a way out!" Malfoy spat. "I'd know one!" He leaned back on his heels and glared at the wall, as though it was the wall's fault he was trapped underground with his worst enemy. "There isn't even supposed to be an underground area here!"

Harry found his wand, muttered, "*Lumos*," to light it and went over to crouch by Malfoy, where he stared at the scratches on the wall. "Another Chamber of Secrets?" he asked. "Those scratches-"

"Oh, please. If it were another Chamber of Secrets, we wouldn't have been able to get in by just falling through a floor. Try and actually think for once, Potter." But Malfoy's insult seemed almost instinctive rather than meant, and he took the headband/bandage off his head to reveal an ugly, bloody scratch going from just above his right eyebrow to nearly his ear. Paying no attention to the gash beyond a wince as the makeshift bandage came away, he began to wipe at the wall with it, taking off a great deal of dust. "They're not scratches," he said smugly after a moment of scrubbing. "They're runes."

Harry stared at the wall, trying to decipher the slithery writings. "I can't read it," he said. "I can." If it was possible, Malfoy's tone had gotten even more smug. "I take Study of Ancient Runes. Really rather good at it, actually...." He shot a glance at Harry, and when he spoke next, his voice was condescending. "Ohh, so there's something you *can't* do, Potter? How shocking-"

"I never claimed to be able to do everything!" Harry snapped.

Malfoy snickered. "If you say so."

"So what does it say?" Harry touched the runes, as if that would tell him what they meant. "Are they directions to get out of here?"

Malfoy shook his head, frowning slightly. "No. It looks like the history of Hogwarts." Once again, his mood had changed. He wasn't paying attention to Harry anymore, which was a good thing because Harry was getting fed up with dealing with constant provocation. The pale boy stood up and looked down the wall. "This is only the beginning, though... where's the rest?"

"Interested in history all of a sudden, Malfoy?" Harry asked. "Shouldn't we be trying to get back up and out of here?"

"What do you plan to do, jump up and down until you fly out the top?" Malfoy began tracing the runes along the wall, until they stopped at the corner of the room. "Go right ahead. I could use a laugh." He crouched down again.

"Now what are you doing?" Harry followed him and looked closely at the dusty writing. It was still incomprehensible.

Malfoy apparently didn't even think he was worth insulting anymore, because he replied in a perfectly reasonable (if not friendly) tone, "The story stops here, but it hasn't ended..." He brushed silver-blond hair off his forehead, wincing as his fingers encountered the bloody gash in his head, and looked around the room.

Harry bit his lip and looked back at his inexpertly bound arm. He wasn't sure if he'd have done as much for Malfoy, if it had been the other boy with the broken arm instead of him. And far from his usual barrage of complaints about the smallest injury, Malfoy was bearing his slashed forehead, which probably felt at least as painful as it looked, without complaint. "Look, Malfoy...." he said hesitantly. "As long as we're trapped down here together, how about a truce? We'll probably get out faster working with each other than against each other."

Malfoy gave him a look with ice in it, then shrugged. "Fine. But only until we get out. I don't think I can put up with you for longer than that."

Harry stood up. "Same here. It's a deal." He stared at the runes again. "Why write in runes? Especially in a place where no one would see... and then why not finish?" He looked around the room, then his eyes widened. "Hey! I think I found some more!"

The part of the wall in question was filled with runes, and even to Harry's eyes they were different. Instead of the smooth, sinuous flow of the runes Malfoy had found, these were quick and jerky, as though whoever had carved them into the wall were running out of time or was very emotional about something. Malfoy walked over, and Harry noticed that most of the arrogant swagger he affected while walking around Hogwarts was gone, replaced by... something else, something that reminded him... of that dream from earlier! Harry narrowed his eyes. Something was going on in this place, something bizarre.

Malfoy didn't notice Harry's preoccupation. He nodded, looking over te runes. "This is the end of the story... how Godric Gryffindor and Salazar Slytherin fought their duel, and Slytherin died. The founders all left the school, putting it in the care of their top students, and were never heard from again-" He tracked his hand along the runes as he read them. Harry frowned. "That doesn't sound right."

But he could remember learning about it in History of Magic, and how the Slytherins (Malfoy included) had slunk around alternately feeling sorry for themselves and coming up with elaborate schemes to make life miserable for the Gryffindors. But now it seemed wrong... like that wasn't what had happened to the founders at all. He shot a glance at Malfoy, expecting the other to start in again on him.

But Malfoy was looking at the runes oddly, too. "You're right," he said finally, sounding a little surprised to hear himself say it. "It *doesn't* sound right...." He studied the runes harder, apparently thinking he'd made a mistake somewhere in the translation. Harry decided to look around the room some more, to see whether he could find the middle of the story. It was strange though, how quickly the need to get out of the room had given way to the need to find the rest of a story that had been hammered into his head since his first year at Hogwarts. Finding the rest of it probably wouldn't get them out, of course, but it was something to do until something else presented itself.

Eventually, he found himself back at the original scrawl. He hadn't found anything else. He tracked his hand along the runes as if reading them, hoping that at least a glimmer of something would get through. As his hand touched the last one, a flash of green and scarlet light blinded him, and white hot pain shot through the scar on his head.

Harry yelped and fell backwards, away from the wall. In a split second, Malfoy was with him, keeping him from falling on his broken arm again (for which Harry thanked him and he ignored) and staring at the wall, whose runes had reorganized into English words. At the bottom, five letters were still runes, but they were glowing a golden yellow color. "What did you do?" Malfoy asked, too surprised to sound spiteful or angry about it.

"I don't know." Harry jerked away from the other boy. A truce was a truce, but being too close to Malfoy made his skin want to crawl off his bones. "It just...happened. When I touched them."

Malfoy didn't say anything at first, just stared at the words. Then he sniffed disgustedly.

"What?" Harry asked, looking at the words himself, for the first time. Then he frowned and read out loud. "'Wide as an apple, deep as a cup, all the seven seas can't fill it up'?" He grinned suddenly, recognizing it. "It's a riddle!"

"No, really?" Malfoy asked acidly. "I hadn't noticed."

"Now how do we answer it... bet you we're supposed to put these yellow ones in the right order and they'll spell out the answer."

"Brilliant," Malfoy drawled acidly. "Now all we have to do is figure out what the right answer is!"

"Oh, that's easy." It was fun for once to be the one sounding smug and superior. "If you knew anything about Muggle stuff, you'd know it too. The answer is a sieve."

Malfoy's lips thinned, and Harry had the unpleasant feeling that the pale boy was very carefully keeping score between them, and looking for ways to even that score without breaking truce. "A sieve," he repeated, and glared at the riddle. "How charming..." Working quickly, he touched the glowing sigils in some order or another.

It must have been the right order, because there was a bright golden flash, and the wall swung open to reveal a dark passageway. Harry and Malfoy both stood up at the same time. "Weird," Harry whispered. He shined the light from his wand into the passage. "Think we found the middle of the story," he remarked casually.

"Your best subject is the obvious, isn't it?" Malfoy sauntered a few feet into the passage. He used his own light to peer carefully at the lines of script. "Mostly building details... how many tons of stone were used, how long it took, the spells guarding it. A few remarks on relations between the founders...." He gestured further down. "It continues on that way." Without waiting for Harry, he continued down the passage, occasionally stopping to look at a section.

After a brief fantasy of figuring out how to shut the wall up again and barricading Malfoy inside, Harry followed. The passage wasn't dusty at all, he noticed with some shock. Like it had been shut up so tight not even dust could settle in or something. He caught up with Malfoy some thirty feet into the passage where he'd crouched down again to get a closer look at some of the writing.

After a few moments, Malfoy reached out and touched one of the sigils. "That's not a-" he began, when the lights from both their wands was snuffed completely out. "Did you do that, Potter?" he asked with a slight edge in his tone.

"No... why would I? Did you?" Harry waited for a few moments, but Malfoy didn't answer. "Malfoy?" No answer again. *He's left me behind in here,* Harry realized. *I should have gone ahead and shut him in here first, should never have trusted him....* 

Chapter Four: Duel Nature 

*...trusted him...* Godric Gryffindor blinked, suddenly reminded of ten years before, when he, Helga, Rowena, and Salazar had stood on a hilltop and looked over the land that would become their school, Hogwarts School of Wizardry and Witchcraft. So much had changed since then... their first three classes of students were graduated and gone, some of those students doing very great things indeed.

He started walking again. Ten years... it was a long time. His hair was completely steel-gray now instead of the distinguished salt and pepper it had been then, but his smile was the same, still so much like a little boy trying to charm his way out of trouble. Or at least so Helga was fond of saying. Godric stopped in the Trophy Room and stared morosely at the House Cup. It had seemed like such a *good* idea at the time.

First, sort the students into Houses which would put them under the care of a teacher who would give them the best opportunity for success in magic. Next, give the students a prize, something real and tangible to work toward, and they would. It was a sound enough principle. But then the House Cup had become a matter of personal status for the teachers as well, and that had caused problems between the four friends.

No, that wasn't true. Helga could care less about the House Cup; it was, she said, far too large to drink tea out of, and really, what was a cup for if not to drink from it? Rowena would have enjoyed winning, but she preferred to focus her energy on study and research. No, the real problems were between him and Salazar. He'd trusted the man back at the beginning, trusted him and defended him, and then he'd betrayed what they all stood for....

No, wrong again. The pale Parselmouth had been true to his own ideals and trained his personal students to use every ounce of their intellect to get ahead, no matter what. Cunning mixed with a healthy dose of ruthlessness had yielded very clever wizards and witches indeed, but almost all of them were known for their cutthroat approach to in-House and school politics.

Godric's students, on the other hand, were well-liked by the rest of the school. Cheerful, hard-working, honest...they were the opposite of everything Salazar's students worked so hard to accomplish. It was in large part because of that that Salazar's students (called "little Slytherins" by the other students when the founders' backs were turned, or sometimes just "Slytherins") had every single year won the House Cup for having the most points.

The little Slytherins weren't above scheming to get what they wanted, or resorting to trickery or cheats. Anything that got the job done was fine with them. "But there's no fairness like that," Godric said moodily to the House trophy, which glittered solemn and golden back at him. "Even my children are beginning to give up on ever winning-"

"Bravery without intelligence," said a soft voice behind him. Godric turned to face Salazar, pale and thin with his snake draped around his shoulders. "Hello, Godric."

"Salazar."

"You're looking well." Salazar stroked his snake and glided over to join Godric, his emerald-green robes just barely brushing the floor. "My House has won it again this year, you know," he said softly, looking at the House Cup.

"So they have... Salazar...." Godric paused, then steeled himself to continue. "Could you... just maybe... tone it down a little? You know, with the personal training thing? I'll be the first to admit that your way is effective, but your students have made themselves a reputation for... unpleasantness... and you know, in all fairness the other Houses ought to at least have the opportunity to win-"

"They have all the opportunity they need," Salazar answered dismissively. "All they need do is take it when it presents itself. If they're too slow or too stupid to see their advantage and press it, why, that's their loss, isn't it?"

Godric nodded absently. He'd known what Salazar's answer was going to be even before he'd said anything. As was getting more and more common lately, he found himself nearly hating his old friend. Couldn't Salazar see that he was coming closer and closer to destroying something good and right with his "might makes right" approach?

It was what they'd founded Hogwarts to end, for heaven's sake! They'd seen the divisiveness and the factions of the other wizards in the world, and had seen the Muggles able to divide and conquer as they chose because each wizard was only interested in their own little chunk of power, not the survival of magic in general.

And that was what Godric had thought the school was all about. Teaching children with the ability, whoever they were, so that all wizards would be one people instead of a bunch of individuals. In that spirit, Godric had chosen several Muggle-born children and several half-bloods to come to Hogwarts.

Helga had accepted them all with her usual motherly placidity, Rowena hadn't seen them as anything more than students, and he himself had been overjoyed that they had come and ended up learning as much as he taught. But Salazar... Salazar had refused to let even one Muggle-born child into his House, and no amount of persuasion had been able to move him on that point. He'd argued for six hours before caving in and accepting just one half-blood. "And to this day, you've never allowed another...." he mused out loud.

"Excuse me?" The pale wizard's voice was colder than a glacier.

"Half-bloods. You've only ever taught one as a member of your House."

"And I would not have taken him if you had not refused to back down." Salazar's voice remained frozen. "Unlike you, I recall what their kind is capable of. I will not have one of those creatures menacing a pure-blooded-"

"Creatures?" Godric asked softly. "Is that what you think they are?"

Salazar paled even more. Unlike most people, when he got angry, Godric Gryffindor didn't shout or scream, he just got very, very quiet and calm. And the two wizards had been friends long enough that Salazar knew what dangerous ground he was on. "Aren't they?" he shot back defiantly. "Think of it, Gryffindor, think of the numbers of our kind those filthy Muggles and degenerate Mudbloods have killed. And for what? Something they couldn't do or couldn't understand, something they *could* do if they half tried?" His expression twisted into something that was halfway between a grimace and a sneer. "They can keep their crosses and their public burnings, Gryffindor, and I'll keep my students separate from them. Separate and safe."

"Things are different now, Salazar," Godric said, still very quiet. "There are no more burnings, the inquisition has ended-"

"For now. It's only a matter of time until the next one, and mark my words, Gryffindor, it will be one of your little Mudblood pets who lights the first stick under your feet-"

Godric had his wand out and in dueling position before Salazar finished the sentence. "No one," he whispered, "insults my children."

"Oh, how touching," Salazar hissed mockingly. He brought out his own wand and with a quick hiss directed his pet snake into a corner to allow him freedom of movement. "Is that a challenge, Godric?"

"I think it has to be... Slytherin. It's been coming for a very long time." Godric fell into a ready stance easily; dueling was one of his great strengths. It was quick and decisive, from moment to moment without any particular plan. He felt a brief pang as he watched Salazar carefully arranging himself in a dueling stance. The Parselmouth was a schemer and a planner, not a fighter... he'd lose this fight handily. "Salazar... listen... you can still back out-"

Salazar cut him off with a sharp flick of his wand. "I'm ready," he hissed angrily. "I've been waiting for this, Gryffindor... I knew it would come to this...."

"Salazar, please! I'll fight you if I have to, but I don't want to! This will tear everything apart, don't you see-" Godric had to fight to keep his expression desperate. He *didn't* want to fight Salazar, and yet... it was like there was another voice in head saying that he had to, that there was nothing else for it, it had as good as already happened.

"Three." Salazar's voice was implacable, and no hint of either hesitation or friendship was in his voice.

Godric's shoulders slumped slightly. "You know you'll never win, Salazar," he said softly. "I'm that much better than you-"

"All the more reason. Two."

Godric bowed his head, giving up. Somewhere along the line, friendship had turned into rivalry, and from there it wasn't far for simple rivals to become enemies. "One..." he said, and brought his wand up.

At the same time, both of them cried, "*Expelliarmus!* at the top of their lungs. Godric had meant only to disarm Salazar and continue to try to reason with him, and who knew what the other had been thinking. But in any case, both were knocked to the ground with their wands on the floor between them by the force of the magic they'd called.

Godric groaned and sat up, thinking he'd underestimated Salazar's power and wondering why this seemed so familiar, as though it had happened before. Salazar wasted no time; he immediately twisted twisted to his feet and grabbed his wand, ready to throw another spell at Godric... then he stopped, looking a little bewildered. Godric used this opportunity to seize his own wand and remember a lethal spell. It didn't look as though he'd haev another chance, and it didn't look like Salazar was going to stop short of killing him first.

After a moment, Salazar's expression cleared back to cold hatred and rage, although his eyes still held hints of confusion. "Keep your school and your Mudbloods," he hissed. "Keep your foolish ideals. They're none of mine."

He began backing out the door of the Trophy Room, as though expecting Godric to attack him from behind if he turned around. "But we're not through yet, Gryffindor. One day your little pets will discover that I have some very lethal secrets indeed." He smiled, and his cold eyes glittered maliciously. "Fare you well, Gryffindor. We shan't meet again in this life." He was at the doorway.

Rowena and Helga burst into the room from other entrances. Helga immediately ran to Godric and began helping him up. Rowena rounded on Salazar. "What's happening?" she demanded. "You two fighting like schoolboys-"

"Be silent," Salazar commanded. "I have no wish to deal with you." His eyes turned to Helga and his cold smile turned almost affectionate. "Well-played, Helga. Most impressive... I have no wish to deal with you either." His form shimmered and he disappeared.

Rowena frowned. "What happened? I mean, not that I'm not glad he's gone, because I am-"

"Just a difference of opinion, dear," Helga said, looking mystified as to what she'd done that so impressed the wizard who'd just left. "I don't think we've heard the last of Salazar Slytherin."

"He's really gone..." Godric whispered, surprised. "I didn't mean for it to end like this-"

"Well, my heavens, dear, no one's dead, the school's still standing, and three out of four isn't bad so where's the harm?" Helga smiled warmly. "What we all need is a good cup of tea while we figure out what happens next. And it just so happens that I have a pot brewing in my rooms...."

Rowena laughed, and after a moment, Godric joined her. He shook his head. "That's your solution to everything...." 

To be concluded in Chapter 5: Tomb of Days! Plus, an author's note apologizing for this entire story!! 


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 5: Tomb of Days 

*...solution to everything...* Harry's and Malfoy's wands flared back into brilliant light, causing them to squint and blink in an attempt to adjust quickly. Harry shook his head and looked around, bizarrely expecting to see something that would explain that vision of the Founders. 

"What just happened?" Malfoy demanded angrily. 

"It's no good asking me, I've not got the slightest idea," Harry answered, eyes once more adjusted to the light. 

"You've never got the slightest idea," Malfoy scoffed. "I wasn't asking *you.*" 

"Then who were you asking?" Harry asked as reasonably as he could. "You saw it too, then?" 

The pale boy gave him a withering look. "Saw what?" 

"The duel," Harry said softly. "Their duel...." He didn't mention any names. He didn't have to; if Malfoy had seen it, he'd know what Harry was talking about. If not... well, they were enemies anyway, Malfoy's opinion of him couldn't get any lower. 

After a moment though, the other boy nodded shortly. "I saw." Then he sniffed. "Wonderful. I'm sharing delusions with my worst enemy in a dusty hole filled with Muggle riddles. I am in hell." 

"What if they're not delusions?" Harry asked. Malfoy burst out laughing. "Say goodbye to what was left of your sanity, Potter. Slytherin *died* in that duel, remember? You slept through the same lecture I did." He shrugged. "Besides which, I'm still left with dusty hole, worst enemy, and moronic riddles." 

"No, I mean... I was *there*, you know? I was affecting things! Not much, but I made him keep fighting when all he wanted to do was drop his wand... and that means since you saw it all too that you were Slytherin..." 

Malfoy rolled his eyes." As if getting that lummox to fight was an accomplishment. Look, even if what you're thinking in your tiny brain was *possible*, which it isn't, that would mean that I decided for whatever reason to *let you live*. In fact, that I actually tried not to kill you-" 

Harry was silent, then touched his broken arm in its careful bandage and sling. How could someone who would shred robes to bandage his mortal enemy talk so easily about killing? "Is it so weird that you'd choose not to kill?" Harry asked suddenly. "It's no secret that I hate you and it's mutual, I'm sure, but are you so sure you could be a killer? And how do *you* know it's not possible?" 

Malfoy didn't answer, but his silence was more one of someone who feels a question beneath him rather than someone who's been presented with food for thought. After a moment, he said quietly, "I will admit that it's *possible* I would choose not to kill you presented with the opportunity... if you might prove useful later." He shook his head again, managing to get hair out of the gash on his head. 

Harry shrugged in a whatever-you-say gesture. He really didn't have the energy or will to argue the point any more. "The tunnel curves around," he said suddenly. "I bet it goes to where we found the ending of the story." Without waiting for Malfoy, Harry hurried along the tunnel path, taking only slight note of the runes that were still scribbled along the walls. 

As expected, he came full circle, out a doorway from beside the story ending. Only something was different in the amphitheatre... a shimmery ladder was resting beside the hole in the ceiling he and Malfoy had fallen through. A quick, slightly panicked glance at the ending runes by the exit he was standing in showed that instead of the rough, jerky carving they'd been before, the were now the same intricate, curvy carving that was everywhere else. 

Harry turned and looked at them more closely, wondering if he'd seen them right the first time. Malfoy came up silently behind him, "Potter, we've seen... those... already...." He trailed off, staring at them. 

"What? What? I can't read them! Tell me!" 

"Shut up," Malfoy ordered tersely. He tracked a finger along the runes, apparently reading them silently to himself. "It seems it *is* possible to change the past...." 

"Only with great difficulty, my dears. And it takes so very, very long," said a voice behind them. 

Both boys spun nearly as one to face an elderly witch in yellow robes who was leaning up against the shimmery ladder. She smiled. "Hello, my dears." Malfoy started back slightly, then gazed at her narrowed eyes. 

"Who are you?" Harry asked. Clearly Malfoy recognized her, but he didn't and didn't trust the Slytherin boy to tell him anything. "How'd you get down here?" 

She laughed. "Don't you know me? Your little friend does-" 

"He's *not* my friend," they chorused indignantly, then glared at each other. 

"So they all say, my dears, so they all say. And as for how I got down here...." She nodded at the ladder. "I climbed down to fetch the two of you." The witch frowned slightly, got out her wand, and flicked it at them. "There. I really didn't mean to injure either of you." 

Harry blinked. The pain in his arm was gone! He took off the sling and flexed his arm experimentally, then his eyes widened. Completely healed... even Madam Pomfrey couldn't have done it that quickly or easily. "What *did* you mean to do...uh... ma'am?" 

She smiled. "I'm very glad you asked that, my dear... but as I have very little time, I will merely give you the short version. You both were... sent back in time, shall we say... although only your minds and souls actually went... to make something right." 

Malfoy had touched his head a few times, feeling for blood. When he found none, he crossed his arms and watched the witch calmly. "Us specifically?" 

"Oh, no, dear, just whoever happened by and gained entrance." at both Harry's and Malfoy's black stares, she continued. "The portrait, you see? And the runes... the riddle... all my keys to unlock the secret." 

"See!" Harry cried triumphantly. "It *was* another Chamber of Secrets! It's just a different secret!" 

The witch nodded sadly. "Yes... I'm afraid we all kept secrets from each other, and this one was mine. I called it the Tomb of Days, and was ever so proud of it. I could tell a story and key it magically to actions or states of mind, and send someone's spirit back in time to watch the history, not to change anything. I was almost finished, when...." She trailed off, with her eyes starting to tear. 

Harry knew who she was now. "You're... you're Helga Hufflepuff...." he whispered. 

"I was, dear," she responded, dashing her eyes. "Now, I'm... well, let's call me a memory, shall we? At any rate, I was almost finished with my lovely Tomb, and was beginning to look for a story to put in it when Salazar and Godric had that childish duel...." She trailed off again, then continued. "I don't expect either of you children to understand how awful it was to see... Salazar was all broken on the ground like some child's doll and Godric was never the same... he jumped at shadows and cried over drowned earthworms...." She drew herself up to her full height. "I finished this place soon after that, made it so that the people who unlocked the Tomb would not only experience history, they'd be able to alter it as well." 

Harry and Malfoy exchanged slow glances. Harry fought back the urge to tell Malfoy, "I told you so! You're no killer!" but the icy glint in Malfoy's eye said that he heard it even unspoken. 

Helga took no note of them, but looked around quickly. "I'm out of time, children... I have to go back now. Climb the ladder, hurry... once I'm gone, I can't hold it here." 

The boys wasted no time, scrambling up the ladder with an alacrity usually reserved for squirrels and monkeys. Once they were back in the corridor they'd originally fallen from, not only did the ladder disappear, but the floor closed back up as well. Harry stared at the repaired floor and decided not to talk about it. It was just another weird thing in a day full of them. 

Malfoy thought the same thing, because he turned his back on the hole-less floor to stare at the portrait. The formerly blank portrait. "That's new," he remarked casually. 

Harry turned to look at it. Instead of simple canvas in a dirty, though gilded frame, there was now a life-size portrait of all four of the Hogwarts founders, with Rowena Ravenclaw and Helga Hufflepuff sitting in stools and Godric Gryffindor and Salazar Slytherin standing beside him. Every so often, one of the women would fix her hair or shift in her seat. Godric's image beamed around him impartially, smiling at everyone, and Slytherin occasionally stroked the snake he appeared to be using as a scarf. A plaque beneath the portrait read, " Last known portrait of all Hogwarts founders together, two weeks before Salazar Slytherin's disappearance." 

"Yeah," Harry agreed, smiling and waving. "It's new." 

Malfoy sniffed and began walking back towards Hogwarts proper. "I find I'm no longer in the mood to fight you, Potter," he drawled lazily, looking behind him. "So I'll give you a break this time. But next time... you'll go down. Hard." 

Harry glanced at the pale boy, who had turned back and was rapidly disappearing down the dusty hallway, then he turned back to the portrait for a final look before he, too, left. "Yeah, next time," he agreed under his breath. "And it'll be you who loses, Malfoy, not me." 

Once Harry was out of sight, the images in the portrait began talking to one another. "Wow, Helga!" cried Godric ecstatically. "That was magnificent!" 

"Very skilled," commented Rowena. 

"Oh, my dear ones, how often must I say it? All things come to she who waits!" 

Salazar shrugged. "I have already congratulated you," he said softly, "so I shall not do it again. But remember now... you've marked those two boys... and that may count against you in the final point tally." 

"Point tally?" Godric laughed. "That's so you! Not everything's a competition!" 

"No?" The image of Salazar Slytherin stroked his snake. "We'll see about that, 'old friend'... I may yet have a card or two up my sleeve...." 

END 

Author's note: First off, I would like to thank everyone who read the story, liked it enough to review it, and in so doing encouraged me to perform the herculean feat of actually finishing it. I hope at some point to be inspired to further HP stories, although we'll all have to see whether inspiration strikes me. :-) 

Next, I would like to apologize for the oblique nature of this fic. I had a very definite idea of what I wanted to accomplish with it, and to my mind at least I succeeded. I had a blast writing it, at any rate, but I feel I have to apologize to anyone who expected a spectacular ending. In essence, this fic ended exactly as it began, although I would like to think that there was some character growth in it. 

Character growth, to my mind at least, meaning that I hope to have opened the door in later of my fics (and possibly other people's?) to a "nice" Malfoy... or at least one who is not necessarily evil. But then I am an obsessive fan who loves to see good in characters who seem to have none. 

So, to end, thank you all for reading my story and bearing through my ranting. I hope that you have enjoyed the story in its entirety, and if you have not, I apologize. Thanks all, for your kind words and praise, and I hope to be worthy of it. :-) And if anyone is still not sure what happened... I'm sorry for that too. 

Slytherin Dragon 


End file.
